Chapter 55

Silas

"Look up, you compulsive gobblers of syphilitic cocks," I muttered. I'd learnt that particular insult from a man who worked down at the docks in Khean. I'd posed as his apprentice for a while when gathering intelligence for my father. "Look up!"

We were supposed to work as a team, but we hadn't been doing that well for some time. Arik would blame the princess, but I knew. We'd forged something on the battlefield, and each time we defied the king by surviving, that bond was strengthened.

Which was why the king had removed us from the battlefront and installed us as royal guards.

That was the point where morale started to drop and so had cohesiveness, and I'd take each one of the bastards to task once we got off this damn playing field for letting their focus slip. I'd rather do so on my own two feet than be carried off on a stretcher.

I'd stuffed the flags down the front of my pants to make sure I didn't lose them in the mad pelt away from those three ravening packs, but this was where my own brothers ran to meet me and help deflect their ire, didn't they? The plan was not that I'd be standing here like a bloody idiot, facing impending doom on my own while the others kissed poor Roan's injuries better.

"Assess the situation. Identify all available resources and then utilise them. It doesn't always have to be in a fancy way, my boy." My father's voice rang in my ears as I scanned the arena, catching the moment when the packs I'd left to smash into each other recovered. "You don't have to try and make clear to everyone around you just how smart you are."

But I liked to. That's what stopped the terrible feeling of boredom that seemed to plague my every step, colouring everything in a haze of dull grey. A challenge, that's what I craved with every breath. But right now, I had far more than I would ever need. Boredom would be driven out of me, as would the air from my lungs, if I didn't get some bloody help from my pack. Roan finally blinked and saw me, nudging the others, and they had what was no doubt a touching little moment, right before they ran towards me at full pelt.

And I came alive.

My eyes were everywhere, taking in the proximity of every pack, including my own, and wondering if the ones I'd pissed off or my pack would get to me first. I could've run to meet Arik and the others. I could've pulled out the flags and shredded them, dismissing each one of my attackers from the field, but… I heard Jessalyn's shout from the crowd, the sound of it cutting through all the noise and spearing into my heart.

She was watching me.

That always brought out the worst elements of my personality. I wanted to show her, show this whole fucking community, what we could do if we turned our minds to it.

Show the one woman I'd ever love that I was worthy of her.

"About fucking time," I snapped, jerking out the flags and shoving one into Arik's hands and another into Roan's. "If you're quite recovered, we need to run."

"What?" Arik said, taking in me, the flag, and the shifters running towards us.

"Each one of us, separate direction." I couldn't use full sentences as I laid out my plans. "Redirect the packs away from Creed."

My focus shifted abruptly to my brother, watching him suck in a breath to tell me the collective wisdom of his people, but we couldn't fight like a pack of wolf shifters, so we'd have to do it my way.

"You find our flag. We create fucking mayhem, dragging these pricks along like a bull by the nose."

"Have them smashing into other packs, letting them take them out for us." Arik grinned as he slapped his hand down on my shoulder.

"And if they catch us?" Roan asked. "I've got no bloody sword."

"Nope, but we've got a particularly potent weapon all over our skin." Arik pointed to his forearm, and I put two and two together. Roan, the idiot, got liniment in his eyes, because of course he did. He was damn good with a sword, but sometimes I wondered how he could talk and walk at the same time. Arik rubbed his fingers along his arms and chest. "Liniment is a bitch to get on any of the sensitive membranes, in the eyes, nose, or mouth."

"This is fate…"

Creed's reverent tone, his sharp nod, it was all we needed. He took off without a word, eyes scanning, nose working as he searched for our flag.

"We aren't a match for a wolf shifter's strength," Arik said. "But we can use that against them. Force them to smash into each other. Stir them up to have them fighting each other. We'll come out on top and then…"

He glanced up into the crowd, searching for Jessalyn, but I couldn't let that happen.

"Starting now."

I snatched my flag away and went running off, legs pumping and hands slicing through the air as sweet, sweet, adrenaline went coursing through my veins. Never was I more alive than when an enemy was on my trail. I listened for the howls, the thunderous steps of the shifters, keeping track of it as I led them away, then corrected course, aiming straight for a nearby pack that had just discovered their flag.

When their heads jerked up, I caught the gleam in their eyes, and knew exactly how they felt. They'd just found the key to spending more time with the one woman they'd waited their whole life for. This had to feel like destiny, that they were in with a chance of winning, but they didn't need time with their mate like we did. I was willing to bet they hadn't crushed their sweetheart's heart, watched the light die in her eyes. I had, and the shame of it powered me on. Because the minute I realised what Jessalyn had done with the oil, I felt hope.

If she hated me, she was thinking about me, unable to stop herself from coming up with ways to torment me. The idea of the princess punishing me was more delicious than I had words to describe because I knew something she didn't. My father had forced me to endure torture training, being on the receiving end as well as the one with the whip in hand. That's when I'd discovered a truth few knew. There was a curious kind of intimacy created between the person taking the whip and the one doing the hurting.

The high-key drama of it had me going back over and over to some of the more reputable ladies in the houses of pain in the tenderloin district of Khean, but no whip, no flail, created the same burn as Jessalyn's touch. The craving for that, for the princess to unload all her frustrations on me, to give that burden to me to carry for her, spurred me to do something no sensible human would. I threw myself forward, diving into the midst of the triumphant shifter pack, snatching the flag from their hands and then tossing it over my shoulder to the pack pursuing me as I leapt free. A cacophony of snarls and growls, followed by the blunt sound of fists slamming into flesh, was music to my ears as I sprinted away.

There was nothing better than a plan coming together.

By the look of the chaos on the field, the others were having similar luck. I grinned as I put on speed, the burn in my muscles letting me know I was running through reserves it'd take some time to replace, but I couldn't worry about that now. A pack seemed to have caught onto my plan, or was just heaving with all of that repressed need for their mate—a feeling that had a twin in my own heart. They staggered into my path, a wall of muscular flesh, determined that I would not pass. Just an obstacle, I told myself over and over, just another fucking obstacle. A different pack came blundering towards them, thinking their posturing was a threat to them, not me, and that's when inspiration struck.

"Use the terrain to your advantage," my father had told me.

I was all of seven at the time, facing down an obstacle course that most men outside of the Guild would've quailed at trying to traverse, but I was too young to know any better. I trusted the bastard, assuming my beloved father would never allow me to come to harm.

No permanent harm, I quickly learned.

Fall after fall and a few broken bones had taught me well. I could adapt at a moment's notice, so I shifted direction, the back of one of the wolf shifters in front of me my new target. Their snarls and growls made clear only an idiot would ignore their warning. No one had ever accused me of having the sense the gods gave a cat, but the reflexes of one? I threw myself upward, using the wolf shifter's back, then his shoulders, as a ramp to launch myself into the air. As claws grabbed for my ankles, I leapt forward.

Flying through the fucking air, I knew then I'd sell my soul for the opportunity to feel this sensation regularly. Gravity had no hold on me, neither did the earth. I went sailing over the mass of them, seeing the bloody battle being fought before me like a bird might. But I had no wings, so I was brought back down to earth literally, my body curling into a loose ball and letting my joints go lax, even as I wanted to brace myself against the impact.

Fuck…

Air still got driven out of my lungs, forcing me to suck it back in again as I clambered to my feet. The sound of the crowd going out of their minds buoyed me up, even as I wavered. My heart was beating too fast, the adrenaline burning like acid, eating everything up in its path. The heated feeling reminded me I only had so much energy left. Yet more wolf shifters spun around to take me in, their narrowed eyes making clear what they thought of me. I dragged my fingers through the oil remaining on my skin, coating my palms in it as I faced them down.

"Come on…" I muttered, watching their fangs flash as they snarled. "Come on…"

I gestured them closer, ready to try and fight the lot of them, dimly aware that this was not sensible, when I caught a flash of colour in the corner of my eye. Why that blue? Why did that catch my attention when everything else was competing for it? Because it was the same pale blue of the dress Jessalyn was wearing when she was brought here unconscious.

Identify the target and then do whatever it takes to take possession of it, that summarised neatly the main thrust of all my father's teachings, and right now it felt good to remember them. I grinned, baring my own blunt teeth as I launched myself forward, slamming my hand into the face of the nearest shifter, then the next, hearing their howls even as their claws raked my flesh.

It made sense that I was hurting, that I could feel blood slide over my skin as I dodged enemies and struck them in the most sensitive areas. I had a whole lot of suffering ahead of me to make up for the pain that I'd caused Jessalyn. But I'd suffer every blow, over and over again, until she was gasping and so was I, and then… Then maybe she'd decide she was ready to love me as I was ready to do her.